


Trust Me, I Won't Let Go

by Aria_Lerendeair



Series: Complaints and Protests are Useless (Or Coulson and Stark are Stubborn Bastards You Can't Say No To) [2]
Category: Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Added Chapters!, Angst, Because I can, Emotional Clint, Fix-It, M/M, Sex, Trust-Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-02
Updated: 2012-07-25
Packaged: 2017-11-09 00:38:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/449303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Lerendeair/pseuds/Aria_Lerendeair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Clint found out that Phil was alive, he was angry, hurt and upset.  So much so that he threw the ultimate insult at him.  That there was no longer any trust between them.  But ever since he said that, he's regretted it.  Is it too late for them to figure things out between them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fix It Or Else

**Author's Note:**

> This is written as a sequel to my Bruce Banner/Tony Stark fic because I can't resist the idea of Phil/Clint fix-it fics. They are the bestest. 
> 
> Also written for my friend Teegee, because she is the best cheerleader ever! :) 
> 
> There may also end up being an extra chapter of this that is porn. I'm not sure yet.

Clint panted as he stared at the punching bag.  He wanted to keep hitting it.  Until he couldn’t feel anything else.  The conversation he had had earlier with Natasha and Thor was haunting the back of his mind.  

Did Coulson - Phil now, his mind reminded him. Did Phil really consider the Avengers Mansion their home? Was he not coming to his home because of him? Because of what he said? 

Clint sighed and leaned against the punching bag in the gym. He had to fix this. But there was no way to take back the angry words that had been exchanged. What he had said to Phil. He had wanted to hurt him. Like he had been hurt, thinking he was dead for four months while Coulson recovered in Maine. He had succeeded. Coulson, Phil, now refused to even look at him. He deserved that. Just like he deserved to be benched. 

"Have you spoken with him yet?" Natasha's voice rang out across the gym. She watched Clint flinch again. 

"There's nothing for me to say." He said, hitting the bag again. 

"No? So he is going to continue doing his version of moping around here?" She walked closer and watched him hit the bag again. 

"Ph-..." Clint froze. He had almost said his name. "Coulson doesn't mope." He hit the bag again, harder. 

"Just like -Phil- doesn't fall for one of his assets." She shot back. 

Clint closed his eyes. He felt like his heart was going to be squeezed out of his chest. "Don't say that. He didn't fall for anyone." 

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Did you miss the look on his face when you told him you didn't trust him anymore?" 

"No." His voice sounded as small as he felt. Phil had looked devastated. Only for a moment. Then he had hidden it and said that he would have Clint transferred to another handler. The second he had seen the paperwork, he had shredded it into tiny pieces. 

"Clint."

"No. Tasha, I can't. I can't." 

"You mean you won't." 

It was the same thing. He wouldn't. He couldn't face Phil after that look. Clint turned and hit the bag hard enough to make his fist throb. 

"You're both miserable. Why can't you be miserable together?" Natasha asked, her voice softening. 

"I can't trust him Nat. He was awake for three months. He knew I wouldn't quit the Avengers. You either. Why didn't he tell us? Why did he have to lie to us?" 

Natasha studied Clint. He looked on the verge of tears, though he would never cry in front of her. "You need to think long and hard about who did the lying. And who really cares about you." 

"Stop saying that!" His voice verged on hysterical. He didn't need to know how much Phil cared about him. Or missed him. Or loved him. 

"No." Natasha said. "I have never seen you like this маленький ястреб (little hawk).  You are hurting yourself.”  She walked over to him and cupped his cheek in her hand, watching him flinch again.  “Look at me маленький ястреб.”  Natasha turned his face to hers.  “You care about him. Yet you hide from him. You pretend you do not trust him. Why?" 

"Nat. I can't. I can't let him get that close again." Clint whispered. 

"You let me." She leaned closer and rested her forehead against his. "I left you for dead. The next time we met, you saved me. You refused to let me work with anyone else. I betrayed you. You trusted me again. Without question. Why is he different?" 

He closed his eyes. Natasha demanded the truth. Always. "He got closer than you did Nat. He could hurt me even worse." 

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Yes. He could. Yet, out of all of the men you and I have worked with, there is no one as trustworthy as Agent Phil Coulson. You know this." Her accent was rough as she pulled away. "Now fix this before I have to kill you for hurting him."

Clint flinched again and nodded. "All right. Yeah." He watched her saunter out of the room. He sank down into a small ball next to the punching bag. Now what was he supposed to do? 

 

 

 

 

Four days later, he got sick of the stupidly romantic looks Bruce and Tony were giving each other. Clint stormed to the front of the house. He had to get out of here. It was torture to see them so happy.  

"Where's the fire Agent Barton?"

His head snapped up and he took in the sight of Phil. Standing in the doorway, his lips quirked up just enough to show he was amused. Clint froze. He wanted to kiss Phil so badly. He forced himself to smile. 

"I got sick of the newlyweds. They're gross." He mumbled, running a hand through his hair. 

"So you have a weakness for newlyweds?" Phil asked. His heart hurt, looking at Clint, who didn't trust him, didn't want him anymore. The trust hurt the most. Without trust, they couldn't work together. Clint...Hawkeye he told himself. No more Clint. But the paperwork for his handler transfer had not gone through. That small fact was enough to make him hope. Hope and pray. Maybe he would have a second chance.  He needed to explain himself.  

Clint shook his head.  Phil might have been easier to talk to if he didn’t look so damn sad.  Now that Natasha had pointed it out to him, he couldn’t stop seeing it.  It was in the way his smile didn’t reach his eyes.  The way his posture wasn’t quite as sharp as usual.  His comebacks didn’t have the same bite.  “No.  Just a weakness for not wanting to know a single thing about Tony Stark’s sex life, yet that is all he insists on talking about.”  

“So you’ve walked in on lab sex?”  

“Yes.  Twice.”  

Phil smirked.  “Maybe try calling ahead?”  

“I’ve decided I’m not going to the lab anymore.  I ask Natasha to do it.  If she gets a view, then hey, at least she can enjoy it.”  Clint said, smiling at Phil.  “What brings you by?”  

He gave the tiniest of shrugs, barely any movement at all.  “I’m back.  I came to get some of my things.”  

His heart sank into his stomach at that statement.  Phil was only coming to get his things.  To take them back to thei-his apartment.  He had no intentions of staying. Of course he wasn't going to stay here. The fact that he had left things here that he cared enough to "get" spoke volumes.   He didn't even notice that Coul-Phil. Phil. Phil had kept talking. 

"-that I lost when I lost your trust." Phil gave a sad smile. 

Now Clint had to know what had been said. Hearing Phil say it out loud hurt so much he didn't want to think about it. "Say that again?" Phil's smile was even more sad now. It hurt Clint to look at him. 

"I'm sorry that your sense of humor was one of the things that I lost when I lost your trust." Phil repeated, his voice quiet. It was what had originally brought them together. Every other handler had been pushed to their limit by the jokes, snarky comments and observations. He had been the only one to laugh with Clint about what he saw. 

He knew what he wanted to say. The words were there, on his tongue. 'You haven't lost it.' It would be so easy to say. Clint sighed. That was it then. They really were over before they ever began. No matter what Natasha thought. Phil looked past him and down the hallway, reminding him that they were still standing in the foyer. He jolted himself out of his reverie. 

"I should get to-"

"I'm scared to trust you again!" The words burst out of him, like they had been waiting there, hidden until the right moment. They froze Phil in his tracks. Phil looked at him again, really looked. Clint squirmed in place. No more hiding. 

Phil Coulson stared at his asset and assessed him. Let himself really look since their argument over a month ago. Clint was obviously not sleeping. He looked stressed, which, for him to be visibly showing it, meant that he had been pushed to his limit. He was also squirming under the assessment he was being given. He was uncomfortable. 

There was only one solution. They needed to talk. Without the shouting and with trust. "All right Agent Barton." Clint, his mind supplied, Clint, Clint, Clint! "We need to talk." He looked at Clint. 

Clint squirmed again. "Yes sir." 

"Immediately."

"Yes sir." 

Phil paused for a moment. "Where would you be most comfortable having this conversation?" 

Clint looked up at him, his eyes widening. Phil was trusting him. That he would take them somewhere safe and secure to have this conversation. Phil had made the first overture. It was his turn to do the same. 

"Not here. The apartment." He was careful not to smile at the look of surprise on Phil's face, even if it only appeared for a moment. "It's safe." He added, giving a small shrug. 

“All right.  The apartment it is then.”  Phil nodded to Clint and turned, offering his back to Clint, trying to send him subconscious messages of trust.  Clint might be afraid to trust him, but he was not in any doubt at all.  

Phil turned his back on him. His body was still tense, but that was likely from a still-recovering wound as it was from fear. Clint nodded back, even though Phil couldn't see him. Phil trusted him.  Was telling presenting him with his back, something another agent would never do.  Phil led the way to the car. He then bypassed the drivers seat and tossed the keys in the air behind him. "You mind driving?"

He caught the keys before he even thought about the reaction.  Clint heard the unspoken statements behind that question. Phil was not really up to driving. It probably pulled his shoulder. Despite going out on Ops, he was not anywhere near 100%. He trusted Clint to drive while he relaxed a little. His head spun as he looked down at the keys. Phil was showing, proving to him that it was okay. That there was still trust between them. That is was safe to trust him. 

He slid into the car and didn't look at Phil. Clint felt himself smile, just a bit. "Shall we stop at a gas station for donuts?" He offered, wanting, needing some normalcy. It was part of their post-op tradition.  

“The Shell station.”  Phil said, nodding.  He would not look over at Clint.  Would not.  It hurt too much to think about.  But here Clint was, offering to get them donuts, just like nothing had changed.  Even when everything had.  

It was automatic, the drive to the apartment.  The air was filled with things they were not saying to each other.  Clint stopped at the gas station and bought two packs of donuts.  One covered in powered sugar, and one in chocolate.  The chocolate was always his, the powdered sugar, Phil’s.  He brought them back into the car and drove them home.  His hands tightened on the wheel.  Home.  Home was where Phil was.  Where his t-shirts were stuffed in the top drawer and the closet full of suits.  Where Supernanny and Hoarders were on the DVR.  Tears gathered in his eyes before he could stop them.  He pulled into the driveway and took a deep breath.  

“Come inside when you are ready.”  Phil said, his voice quiet.  He could see how tense Clint was from here.  He did not want to break this fragile second chance that he was being given.  He had to explain everything and he had to try to get Clint to talk to him, trust him again. He slid out of the car and let himself in to the apartment.  He moved slower than usual, his shoulder still giving him the odd twinge of pain now and then.  He changed out of his suit and into sweats and his old Rangers t-shirt.  The one that Clint loved.  He went back into the kitchen and stared at the coffee maker for a long moment before he decided to make himself a cup.  He couldn’t make Clint come inside.  That had to be his choice.  

He watched Phil let himself in to the apartment.  Clint could not make himself get out of the car yet.  Walking into that apartment would mean trusting Phil again.  It would mean that they might still have a future together.  That maybe, perhaps the small, fragile thing between them had not been shattered.  He was not sure if he could do that, if he was ready to do that.  There were so many things he didn’t understand.  Why hadn’t Phil contacted him?  At all?  None of that made sense.  

Clint rested his head against the steering wheel, a small noise escaping him.  He felt helpless.  Phil had not been the one to lie to him.  That had been Fury.  He had seen the security footage.  He had thought he was dead.  He had told Fury the Avengers needed something to fight for.  They had.  Then after the world was saved, they separated.  They would come together if they needed to, and had.  On more than one occasion.  It had been all over the news.  Phil would have known that his plan had worked.  Why had he stayed away?  Why had he kept lying to Clint?  

And that, right there, was the crux of his problem.  Phil had not told the lie, but he had helped preserve it.  How could he trust someone who would not tell him the truth in a scenario like that?  Clint sighed.  There was no way to get answers to these questions by sitting in the car.  That would accomplish nothing.  He had to talk to Phil.  Had to really talk to him.  Understand.  

He slid out of the car and made his way inside.  He locked the door behind him, satisfied at the three beeps that informed him that the security system had activated.  Clint gave a slow sniff.  He could smell coffee.  He made his way into the kitchen and saw a fresh, steaming cup waiting for him on the counter.  He picked up the cup (in one of his favorite mugs) and brought it to the living room, where Phil was sitting on the couch, staring absent-mindedly at the television.  Clint picked up the remote and hit the record button, in case Phil wanted to see the end of this show.  He turned the TV off and moved to the armchair that was situated by the couch.  Sitting opposite Phil felt like he would never be able to talk the way he needed to.  

He looked at Clint, curled up in the chair that he would normally never go near with Phil here.  He only sat there when Phil was not at home.  “So.”  He started, his voice soft.  “Tell me where I need to start and I will explain.”  

Clint took a sip of his coffee, enjoying the way it burned down his throat.  He looked at Phil.  “Start with dying.”  He took another sip and caught sight of the hurt look on Phil’s face.  “Please?” He added, his voice soft.  The hurt look immediately disappeared.  

Phil shifted in the seat, careful not to pull his shoulder.  While the wound was healed, the muscles around it were still far too tense.  “All right.”  He took a deep breath.  Where was he supposed to start?  

“Loki was imprisoned in the cell we built for the Hulk.  When the attack on the helicarrier happened-” He watched Clint flinch at the mention of it.  “When it happened, there was no one to stop Loki from leaving.  I had been on my way to aid Stark and Rogers when the call came in that Loki was escaping.  I was near R&D.  I grabbed the Destroyer weapon and went to stop Loki.”  

“Why didn’t you call for backup?  Why did you take a god on yourself?”  Clint whispered.  

Phil paused for a moment and looked down at his rapidly cooling cup of coffee.  “There was no one to call.”  He gave a small sigh.  

“That doesn’t mean you take on a god yourself!”  Clint said, frustration bleeding into his voice.  

“He took you away.  Made you attack your friends and coworkers.  I...”  Phil trailed off for a moment and took a sip of his coffee.  When he spoke again, his voice was calm.  “I wanted to kill him for making you do that.  For hurting you like that.  Shooting him with an experimental weapon seemed the best way to do that.”  

His heart gave an uncomfortable lurch.  That was why Phil had taken on Loki alone?  To avenge him?  Clint bit down on his lip, his hands tightening around his cup.  “What happened next?”  He whispered.  He blinked harder, not wanting to start crying.  

Phil looked at Clint again.  “I think you’ve seen the video of the rest.  He stabbed me.  Left me for dead.  Fury came up, called medical.  I lost too much blood.  I flat-lined.  Before that, I told Fury that the Avengers needed something to pull them together.  He used my death to galvanize the others into action.”  He took another deep breath.  “The doctors told me that I flat-lined another two times on the table before they managed to stabilize me.  Even then, they kept me in a medical coma for a month so I could recover.”  

When Clint didn’t say anything, Phil knew what he was thinking.  What had happened to the other three months?  Why hadn’t he been in contact back then?  “When I woke up, Fury was there.”  He exhaled and sighed.  “He told me that I had been classified killed in action.  That you all thought I was dead.  He told me we had you back.”  Phil took another sip of his coffee, finishing it off before he put the cup aside.  

He continued.  “Fury had me sedated and removed to my parent’s house in Maine.  He placed me under house arrest.  I wasn’t in any condition to break out.”  His voice cracked and he looked at Clint again.  His eyes were unreadable.  “Until a month ago.  I came back here.  To you.  And...”  He stopped talking.  Clint knew exactly what had happened.  “Then I went on assignment.”  Phil cleared his throat.  “Now I am back here again.”  

Clint drained the rest of his coffee.  His head was swimming.  It was difficult to think properly.  Phil had been under house arrest.  He had managed to escape after three months.  But he had still never called.  Never contacted him.  “Why....why didn’t you call?  Or email?  Or fuck, even write a letter?”  

“Fury monitored all of my communication.  They took out our phones.  I wanted to.  I wanted to so badly Clint.  Please believe that.”  Phil knows his voice sounds overly emotional and pathetic.  It was ridiculous.  He was begging for Clint to believe him.  But now he had his answers.  Whether Clint stayed or not was his choice now.  His choice to trust him, or not.  

He sighed and put his mug down to the side.  He rubbed his eyes.  Phil was waiting for an answer.  Phil had explained everything and it all made sense.  The only thing that didn’t make sense was how much he still hurt.  His heart was being squeezed painfully.  Part of him wanted to do nothing more than throw himself into Phil’s arms and never let go.  The other part was terrified that if he did, Phil would leave him again.  And not come back this time.  

“Clint?”  

The questioning tone was something he should have expected.  Phil needed to know where he stood.  Where they were going to go.  If anywhere.  He raised his eyes and looked at Phil.  “I shredded the handler trade paperwork you gave me.”  He admitted, his voice soft.  “I can’t work for anyone else.  The whole damn agency knows it.”  

“We can’t work together if you don’t trust me.”  Phil shot back, his entire body tense as he stared at Clint.  It made the small knot of hope in his heart grow even bigger.  Clint didn’t want to work with anyone else.  Only him.  

His hands shook as he clenched them together in his lap.  There were only two choices.  He either trusted Phil, or he didn’t.  

“Do you trust me Clint?”  Phil asked, his voice quiet.  He needed to know.  His heart needed to know.  

“I’m scared to trust you Phil.”  Clint admitted softly.  He untangled himself from his chair, making his choice.  There hadn’t been a choice.  Not really.  Not for them.  Natasha was right.  He stood up and walked over to the couch, straddling Phil’s lap.  He pressed their foreheads together and looked into Phil’s eyes.  “I’m even more scared not to trust you.  I didn’t know what I was going to do without you.  When I thought I’d lost you-”

“You didn’t lose me Clint.”  

He bit his lip and forced himself not to look away.  “I did Phil.  I did lose you.  I lost you for three months and then I forced you away again when all I wanted was to never let you go.”  A small sob escaped him and he wrapped his arms around Phil’s shoulders, pressing closer, careful of the wound in his back and front.  “I was so scared you wouldn’t come back.  That I couldn’t trust you to come back anymore.”  

Phil sighed and cupped Clint’s face in his hands.  “Clint.  Look at me, please?”  He waited until shy blue eyes met his.  “Do you trust me or not?”  

He nodded, staring at Phil.  “Yeah.  I do.”  Clint felt Phil relax under him and smiled a fraction.  “Always will.  You’ve earned it.”  

His heart stopped for a moment.  Clint rarely trusted anyone.  It was even rarer for someone to earn that trust.  Phil smiled at him.  “Good thing I didn’t move anything out of my room in the mansion then.”  

Clint smirked.  “Oh, you’re still going to have to do that.”  He enjoyed Phil’s look of confusion for a moment before he leaned to whisper in Phil’s ear.  “I plan on making you move out of that guest room and into my suite.  Stark’s just gonna have to get used to it.  And I’m not letting you out of my sight for a long time yet.”  

Phil relaxed and tugged him closer.  “All right.”  He had Clint back.  Clint was his.  He hadn’t lost him to Loki, and Loki hadn’t managed to take him away.  They’d gotten through this like they had so many other things.  Together.  


	2. Long Days Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I promised porn, here is the first half of that. It ended up much longer than I thought, but hey. WORTH IT. Also, this is schmoop. Clint taking care of Phil after a damn long day. Also, cooking.

Three days after their heart-to-heart, Natasha cornered him in the gym again.  

“Easier in the end than you thought it would be?”  

Clint paused before he shot his next arrow and then fired it, watching it hit the target dead-center.  “No.  Harder than I thought it would be.”  

“Why?”  She sounded genuinely curious.  

He dropped his bow and turned to face her.  “Because I love him.”  He grinned when Natasha gave him a blinding smile.  It was the first time he had admitted it to someone else.  

She nodded.  “Good.  You should go make dinner for him.  He had a long day.”  

“How do you know-”

“Wine him and dine him properly, will you?  Looked like he needed it.”  She said as she made her way out of the gym.  

Clint chuckled and shook his head.  Natasha, forever prodding him in the right direction.  He fired one more arrow before heading to the kitchen.  If he was going to cook something proper for Phil, he didn’t have much time to do it.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He had been cleared to once again be the Avenger’s handler.  But that clearance had come with a price.  Hill had insisted that he oversee this latest batch of Junior Agents and run them through their orientation.  They had been impossible.  None of them had been able to work as a cohesive unit, they had nearly blown themselves up by stumbling into the minefield without their map and none of them had been able to make it through the obstacle course alive.  Except one woman.  Who had done all of it on her own.  Phil rubbed his temples as they made their way back to base.  He shoved the report at Hill and shook his head.  Nine hours in the sun to watch a bunch of idiots fail at the most basic of tests.  Not his idea of a good day.  All he wanted was home, a bath, maybe food, and curling up with Clint.  

Thankfully, no one decided to delay him as he headed to the lobby and made his way to his car.  The drive to Stark Tower wasn’t a long one, but it felt it when combined with New York traffic.  By the time he got himself back to the tower, he was ready to drop.  Forget food and a shower.  He wanted bed with Clint in it.  

“Wow.  Tasha wasn’t kidding when she said you looked beat.  Long day?”  

Phil looked up at Clint and smiled.  The archer was wearing an apron.  And he had smudges of something on his cheek.  A grown, deadly man should not be able to look adorable so easily and yet Clint pulled it off with amazing ease.  “Junior Agent orientation and initial training.”  He smiled when Clint winced.  

That had been an awful day, forget just plain bad.  Phil needed to be wined and dined and probably massaged with no thought of more strenuous activity this evening.  “Right.  I made dinner.  Go shower, change and meet me here in fifteen minutes.”  He stepped closer to Phil and gave him a soft kiss.  “Okay?”  

He hummed.  He really wasn’t hungry.  Even if his stomach was grumbling loud enough to be heard by the both of them.  Phil nodded and leaned in for another kiss.  “Okay.  No promises if I pass out afterwards though.”  

Clint leaned closer and kissed Phil on the ear.  “I’ll carry you to bed if that is the case.  Now go get changed.”  He ordered and pulled away, moving back into the kitchen.  

Phil smiled.  Bossy bastard.  He made his way upstairs, doing exactly as he was ordered.  A quick shower and change of clothes (sweats and and his favorite worn  t:shirt), he made his way back down to the kitchen.  His eyes widened when he caught sight of the two chairs side-by-side and a pair of candles lighting the table.  “Who are you and what have you done with Clint Barton?”  

He laughed and walked over to Phil, wrapping an arm around his waist.  “I could sneak a grope in if it would make you feel better and help you relax?”  Clint smiled as Phil took a deep breath and then gave him his small quirk-of-the-corner-of-his-lips smile.  He pressed a quick kiss to Phil’s cheek.  “Someone, who shall remain nameless, told me you had a long-ass day and deserved to be wined and dined.  So wine, dinner, a massage and maybe an orgasm are in your near future.”  He teased.  

He gave a humorless laugh.  “Not to doubt your powers of persuasion or your ability to arouse, but I am so tired, I’m not even sure I could get it up right now.”  Phil fell into one of the wooden chairs and inhaled the scent of the food.  His mouth watered.  It was a damn good decision not to give up on the idea of food in favour of sleep.  A very good decision.  

“Worry about that after dinner.”  Clint had kept the food simple and delicious.  Exactly the kind he knew Phil would probably need after a day like this.  Chicken, mixed vegetables (excluding carrots - Phil hated carrots), brown rice all drenched in a sauce of his own making were waiting for the both of them.  

“Did you order takeout?”  Phil looked down at the food, a little confused.  It seemed home cooked, but he could distinctly remember Clint saying that he lacked the ability to do anything in the kitchen other than make toast.  

Clint smiled.  “Nah.  I lied about that one.  Stayed with a culinary student for about six months though, and picked up what I could off of her.  Try it.  I promise it’s good.”  He took a slow sip of his wine, then started to dig into the chicken.  He was hungry now, having spent the last hour working on this.  

He hummed.  Once he got a bite of the rice drenched in sauce the hum got louder and much more appreciative.  It was delicious.  The rest of his food disappeared in record time.  He chased the rest of it down with the white wine Clint had poured for the both of them.  Phil relaxed back into his seat with a groan.  Now all he wanted was bed and Clint.  Preferably soon.  

“Come on sir, you look dead on your feet.”  Clint slowly lifted one of Phil’s arms around his shoulder and pulled him up from the chair.  “Jarvis?”  

“Yes sir?”  

Clint smiled.  Phil had nuzzled into his shoulder with a small noise and had an arm wrapped around his waist.  Adorable.  “Could you please have DUM-E or Butterfingers clean this up?  I need to get Phil to bed.”  

“Of course sir.  Have a good evening.”  

“Thank you Jarvis.”  Clint led Phil to his suite, taking the elevator up another floor before they got off and stumbled to the bedroom.  He watched as Phil fell on the bed with a groan.  “That good huh?”  All he got was a grunt in response.  “Want to strip for your massage, or leave your clothing on?”  He still got a grunt in reply, but this one seemed slight more curious.  “Yes, I’m giving you a massage.  You were standing in a tower for nine hours.  I’m used to that kind of abuse.  You’re still recovering from a stab wound.”  He stated, climbing onto the bed next to Phil.  

"Clothes off would be nice. But I am not moving." Phil mumbled into the pillow. 

"At least sit up and take your shirt off." Clint said, rubbing Phil's back slowly. 

"You just want to see me shirtless." 

Clint chuckled and pressed a kiss to Phil's neck. "Always. But I also want to give you a massage after a damn long day. So sit up and take off your damn shirt."

Phil grunted. Nevermind that a massage sounded heavenly. He did not want to move. But Clint was doing that cute pleading thing with his voice. It meant it would be worth it. Very worth it if he listened. And did as he asked.  He sat up slowly with another grunt and tugged his shirt off, tossing it towards the chair in the corner of the room.  “You’re not getting pants off without some series effort Agent.”  

He smiled and helped Phil lay on his front.  “That okay on your wound?”  

“It’s been four months.”  

“You’re still wincing when you move and twist certain ways.  Can you blame me?”  Clint asked, nuzzling the back of Phil’s neck again.  

“Yes.”  

Same old Coulson.  Some things never change.  “Good.  Now relax.”  Clint leaned over Phil and grabbed the massage oil out of his dresser.  

Phil hid his face against the pillow and smiled.  “You planned ahead?”  

“For once, yes.  I thought Agent Coulson would approve.”  Clint admitted, dripping some of the oil onto Phil’s back.  He put the bottle back on the dresser.  

"I think I approve far more than my work persona." Phil mumbled, another low groan escaping as he felt Clint's hands on him.

Clint smiled and started rubbing Phil's back, his hands moving in slow circles. "I love that you say you have a 'persona' at work."

He hummed as the massage oil started to heat up and Clint's hands moved in slow movements over his back. "If I didn't, then the junior agents would not be appropriately terrified of me."

"I wasn't." Clint smiled and started to rub a little harder.

“No.  You weren’t.  You’re special.  Always have been.”  Phil said, smiling against his arms.  He felt Clint’s hands still for a moment before resuming their steady massage.  

Clint decided then and there that whether or not he wanted it, there would be an orgasm in Phil’s very near future.  He was not going to let Phil get away with saying something that sweet without retribution.  He pressed his hands in deeper, going straight for the sore spots and grinned when Phil let out a long moan.  Better.  

He was careful around the still-sore scar on Phil's back, but was careful to massage all the muscles around it, feeling Phil almost sink into the mattress with another groan. "You should have asked me to do this a few days ago!" 

Phil grunted. He was supposed to get massage regularly as part of his physical therapy. No way he was going anywhere else. Clint's hands were magic. He felt near boneless and half-aroused. 

"Well, next time make sure to tell me when the wound gets bad. I will give you another massage. Deal?" Clint pressed his hands slowly down the line of Phil's back and grinned when he heard several satisfying cracks. 

He snorted. Did Clint really think he was going to argue about getting a massage? Especially a heavenly one like this?  Phil closed his eyes and focused on relaxing.  

“Good.  Thank you for agreeing.”  Clint focused on the massage, smiling to himself.  Other agents found it weird that they were able to talk without actually saying anything.  Phil said it was a by-product of working together for years.  Clint thought that they were both just badass and it was a damn good way to intimidate everyone else.  Another few minutes later, he was done with Phil’s back.  “Think you can manage to turn over onto your front?”  

That involved moving.  He did not want to move right now.  Moving was, in fact, the last possible thing that he wanted to do.  But Clint was using that promising voice again.  The one that said he would really love it if he did what Clint was asking.  Phil gave a low groan and pushed himself up and off the bed, slowly moving onto his back, his head sinking into the pillows.  

Clint froze and stared at the shirtless man in front of him.  He groaned and smiled at Phil.  “You sure you don’t want me to take a whack at letting me blow you?  Cause, you look kinda debauched right now.  It’s rather hot.”  

He raised an eyebrow at Clint.  Debauched?  He wasn’t some heroine out of a romance novel.  “Why don’t we continue with the massage and see where we end up?”  Even as exhausted as he was, his cock gave a predictable twitch of approval at the idea of Clint’s mouth getting him off.  “Might not hurt if you were to join me in the shirtless department.”  

He laughed.  “You just want something to oogle while you get your massage!”  He reached down and tugged his shirt off quickly, following quickly with his jeans, leaving just his boxers on.  “There, plenty of skin for you to stare at.”  

“Mmmm.”  He raked his eyes over Clint’s skin, taking in the sight of him.  There was a new scar or two he would have to ask Clint about.  Sometime soon.  When he wasn’t caught between relaxed and turned on. "Planning on continuing the massage?" 

"You know I am." Clint reached out and took Phil's hand, starting a massage on his fingers before working his way up his arm. Phil was groaning appreciatively as he tackled all of the sore muscles. "Have I told you how much I love touching you?" 

Phil blinked and looked up at Clint. As good as he was at reading him, this required an actual response. "Do you?" 

Clint's voice was soft. "Yeah I do. Hard to keep my hands off of you sometimes." He focused on the scar on Phil's chest, determined not to blush. 

His eyes softened and he reached out to touch Clint's cheek. "Come up here." He ordered. Phil felt his heart turn over a couple of times as Clint gave him a large smile and scrambled to lay on top of him without hurting him. 

Having all of Phil under him and pressed against him like this made all of his worries non-existent. He could feel Phil's heartbeat, strong against his chest. Clint buried his face in Phil's neck and gave a slow hum. "Mmmmm. You used my shower gel." 

"You like it when I do." Phil said, his fingers threading into Clint's hair. 

Clint gave a low purr. "Yeah I do." He kissed Phil's neck and nibbled on his skin, grinning when it got a groan out of him. 

"Hellion."

"Still too tired to get it on?" 

Phil could feel the grin against his neck. "Apparently not." He shifted his hips, pleased when he got a groan of his own out of Clint.

"Still want me to blow you?" Clint pulled away to look at Phil and rest their foreheads together. 

Phil raised an eyebrow at Clint. He had to ask? 

"Okay, I deserved that look. But you were telling me you were too tired to get it on not so long ago." Clint said, letting his lips brush over Phil's. 

"Your convincing skills are top notch." Phil shot back. Truthfully he would have to have one foot in the grave before he was unable to want Clint. 

Clint chuckled. "You know what other skill I have that is top notch?" He waggled his eyebrows. He caught Phil fighting down a smile, instead the very corner of his lips quirked up. 

"I don't believe in bragging Barton. If it is top notch, then you had better prove it to me." Phil watched Clint's eyes darken with lust. That was better. He would definitely enjoy Clint convincing him his skills were top notch. 

“Then allow me to demonstrate.  Sir.”  Clint leaned closer and kissed Phil with everything he had.  Hard, fast and dirty.  Another moan escaped Phil and he smirked.  Better.  “Since I’ve already gone and given you a perfect massage, I think I’ll show you the other thing I’m perfect at.”  He pulled away from Phil and started to kiss down his chest, paying careful attention to the area around his scar before he kissed lower.  His fingers moved up Phil’s thighs and spread them slowly so he could settle between them.  In another quick movement, the sweatpants in the way were tugged down and off.  He heard Phil moan again and smirked against his skin.  

Phil chuckled and groaned, his fingers tangling into Clint’s short blonde hair.  “Shooting arrows?”  He managed to quip back.  That mouth was steadily moving lower with tantalizing intent.  

He paused and blew a stream of hot air over Phil’s dick and watched it twitch, grinning a bit.  “While I am exceptionally perfect at that, yes.  I had something else in mind when I said that.”  Clint watched Phil twitch again, his grey-blue eyes narrowing.  He loved teasing Phil.  “Something you actually helped me perfect-” Yes, that was Phil’s fingers twitching in his hair, pulling him closer.  

“Clint!”  He knew his voice sounded breathless and the tone was almost begging, but he didn’t care.  He needed Clint to touch him and he needed it now.  Another keening moan escaped him, damnit, it didn’t even sound like him!  But Clint’s mouth was on his cock and his tongue was doing things he only dreamed and never spoke about, so he was not about to complain in the slightest.  

Phil was too damn tired for anything fancy.  Instead, Clint decided he would focus on getting him off, relaxing him and having him fall into a clearly-needed sleep.  The world could save itself for the next eight hours.  He bobbed his head up and down in a slow rhythm, one hand moving opposite to his mouth, his tongue teasing across the tip.  He could feel Phil’s hands tightening in his hair, trying to warn him, get him to move away.  Clint would have rolled his eyes if he wasn’t so focused on ignoring Phil and getting him to come.  

Clint was stubborn.  Far more stubborn than an asset should be.  But with those sinful lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him like his life depended on it, Phil really couldn’t bring himself to complain.  He was going to come long before he wanted to, because this was Clint and they hadn’t touched each other in months and it felt so fucking good, the last thing he wanted was for it to end now.  Except then Clint did that thing with his tongue, twisting it along the tip and he was gone, shouting Clint’s name as his hips bucked up, driving his cock deep into Clint’s mouth as he came.  His body collapsed on the bed right after, boneless, his orgasm leaving his mind fuzzy and blessedly blank.  

He smirked.  He had ever right to smirk after reducing Phil Coulson to a pile of very attractive goo.  Clint stripped off his shirt and boxers and climbed into bed.  As much as his dick was throbbing at the lack of attention, he knew that Phil was in no way to be able to reciprocate this evening.  If he hadn’t passed out already.  “Feel better?”  

He nodded.  There really wasn’t anything to say.  Clint certainly had a knack for making him feel better.  Phil shifted on the bed, finding a comfortable position before he closed his eyes.  He really should take care of Clint, Clint had to have been turned on by that whole thing and leaving him like this seemed very cruel.  But he was so -tired- and Clint was running his hands through his hair and murmuring to him in that soft voice.  He felt his muscles relax and decided he would pay Clint back in the morning.  

It would take quite a while for this erection to go away on its own, but he was not upset about it.  It had been worth it to take care of Phil and to watch him fall asleep, boneless and satiated next to him on the bed.  That and Phil would pay him back in the morning.  Clint smiled and stretched out.  He couldn’t wait.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why my brain demanded all of this lead up to a sex scene. I was all ready for them to have angry sex in the hallway, but I figured Phil's injuries couldn't handle that...so it led to this. 
> 
> Right. 
> 
> There will also be another chapter. Now that I think about it. Probably. 
> 
> Cause I totally need to have Phil paying Clint back. Full measure. Cause that's the kinda guy he is.


	3. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because damnit, I wasn't about to leave Clint all hot and bothered! So this makes up for that!

Clint only slept like the dead near people he trusted.  For most of his life that had been one of two people.  First Natasha, then Phil.  Now he had a whole host of names to add to that list, but he only truly felt safe in the Tower.  Everywhere else, he considered it part of his duty to protect the Avengers, who were more prone to dying stupidly than anyone else he had ever meet.  Even if it was Phil whispering in his ear and trying to wake him, he did not want to move.  He was comfy damnit, and he didn’t get to sleep in often enough.  

“I know you’re awake.”  Phil whispered against Clint’s shoulder.  He had heard his breathing change, and even though it was still slow and steady, it was not the full deep breaths of sleep.  “If you want me to go ahead and get out of bed-”  He smiled as Clint’s arm tightened around his waist and pulled him closer.  

“Don’t even think about it Coulson.  You are not leaving this bed this morning, I don’t care if the world is going to end if you don’t get your paperwork in on time, you are not leaving this bed.”  Clint mumbled, getting Phil back into his previous position of pressed tightly against him.  

Phil chuckled. "Nothing so dramatic. But I thought you might like to continue where we left off last night." His fingers trailed down and over Clint's hip, rubbing down his thigh. 

Clint popped open one eye and stared at Phil. He had his happy smile on. It was small and sweet and perfect. He only saw it when they were curled together in bed like this. He grinned and raised an eyebrow at Phil. 

"What part of last night do you think I mean." Phil watched as Clint's grin nearly split his face.

"Yes, I am aware that everyone finds it by turn odd and scary that we can do this." Phil said, leaning in to steal a slow kiss. He rolled on top of Clint and kissed his throat. “Consider it a thank you for being so sweet last night.  Who told you’d I’d had a long day?”  

“Our resident babysitter.”  Clint muttered, tilting his head back to give Phil better access to his neck.  

Phil chuckled and licked the base of Clint’s throat, hearing his breath catch.  “Ah.  That would explain the lack of interruptions this morning.  Good.  I want to take my time.”  

His erection from the previous night had come back with a vengeance and the words ‘take my time’ were the last ones he wanted to hear from Phil.  That normally meant long and sensual torture that he was not sure he could take.  “Do we have to?”  Clint whined, wrapping one leg around Phil’s hip, trying to tug him closer.  

He hummed and kissed his way down Clint’s breastbone, thinking about it.  “For right now, yes.  I want to savor you.  And not fuck with my shoulder.  I’d like to keep doing this without the medical team yelling at me.”  Phil smiled at Clint and kissed him again, slow and deep.  

His heart did a painful flip in his chest.  “Phil...”  Clint knew that his voice was hoarse, but god when Phil said things like that.  He shook his head and flipped them over, careful to make sure he didn’t jar Phil’s shoulder.  “How about you sit back and let me take control?  I’ll ride you into oblivion baby.”  He promised, leaning down for another of those soul-stealing kisses he could never get enough of.  Phil was here and Phil was his.  

His eyes darkened as he stared up at Clint, who was situating himself on his thighs.  “That sounds like an excellent plan Clint.”  He whispered, rocking his hips up slowly, watching Clint’s eyes darken.  

He wanted to bury his face in Phil’s neck and never let go of him again.  He had almost lost this?  How had he almost lost this?  He stretched out over Phil and grabbed the massage oil bottle from the dresser.  He had left a condom on top of the dresser last night, just in case.  Clint grabbed it and tore it open.  He didn’t want to use one at all, but Phil would probably insist on it.  He poured oil on his fingers, but froze when Phil grabbed his wrist.  He looked up at Phil, afraid something was wrong, that he had done something wrong.  

The look of panic on Clint’s face told him how raw this moment was for him.  “It’s okay.”  Phil whispered, taking the bottle of oil from him.  “I want to get you ready.  If you’re going to do all the work, I want to help out at least a little.”  He teased, pouring the oil onto his fingers.  “Sit on my stomach?”  

Clint exhaled and smiled at Phil, scooting forward, his thighs on either side of Phil’s chest.  “Okay.”  His heart did another flip and he smiled down at Phil.  ‘I love you.’  He could not make the words come out yet.  But they were there.  “I trust you.”  He whispered, gasping as he finally felt Phil’s fingers press against him.  “Yes!”  

“Do you want gentle?”  Phil asked, taking his time as he pressed a finger into Clint, gasping.  His whole body was so hot and welcoming, he wanted to force Clint to take more.  But no.  They had to do this slowly, properly.  

“I’m not gonna break Phil.  Haven’t done this in a while, so slow is probably a good idea, but I don’t need you to be gentle.”  Clint whispered, moaning loudly as Phil pressed a second finger into him.  “Yes, like that.  Nnnnn.  Perfect.  More please.”  He begged, spreading his legs wider.  

His eyes went wide and he stared up at Clint, all muscle and sinew, moving and flexing above him.  His mouth watered at the sight.  Clint wanted this.  Wanted it so badly, he was willing to beg for it.  Phil took his time stretching Clint.  The last thing he wanted to do was hurt him, after all of this, all they had managed to get through.  He pressed in a third finger and curled his fingers, unable to keep from staring at Clint bucked, a hoarse moan escaping him.  

“Holy fuck, do that again!”  Clint ordered, rocking back on Phil’s hand.  He moaned when Phil repeated the gesture and fire went lancing through his belly.  “Phil, please...stop teasing.  I want you now.”  He shivered when Phil’s fingers stopped moving and pulled out of him.  He felt empty and desperate.  “Phil...”  

“Shhh.”  Phil leaned up, ignoring the pull on his shoulder and kissed Clint, determined to distract him.  “Sit back, carefully.”  He ordered, one hand on Clint’s hip to position him, the other gripping the base of his cock as Clint sank back onto him.  “Clint...fuck, take it slow!”  Phil growled, struggling to keep his hips still as Clint took him in all the way.  “Does it feel all right?”  He panted, licking his lips as he stared up at Clint.  

He smiled and braced his hands on either side of Phil’s shoulders, his fingers tangling in the mattress.  “Yes.  You feel good.”  Clint whispered, leaning down and stealing another kiss.  He rocked his hips up and gasped.  “Oh fuck!”  He swore, repeating the slow rocking motion.  At this angle, he was able to move so Phil brushed against his prostate with every thrust.  It was heaven and hell all at once.  “Oh Phil...”  Clint knew his voice sounded broken and desperate, but it felt so good and he never wanted it to stop or end.  

“You’re so good Clint.”  Phil whispered, rocking his hips up, meeting each of Clint’s thrusts, driving himself harder and deeper into his body.  “I love seeing you like this.  Take what you need from me.”  He ordered and watched Clint bite his lip and let out another broken moan.  Clint started moving harder and faster, lifting himself up and slamming his hips back down.  Phil found the rhythm he wanted and soon they were moving against each other, sweat slicked and desperate to reach release together.  

“Phil.  Phil.  Phil.”  Clint could say nothing other than his name, becoming increasingly more needy in his movements, his hips moving continuously.  He could never remember it being like this between them, like he would die if they didn’t reach the end together.  “Please Phil, I’m so close and I want you to let go.”  He begged, leaning down for another kiss.  It felt so good to kiss him, hard.  

There was no way he could say no to begging like that.  Phil smiled and wrapped a hand around Clint’s cock, eager to bring him off first.  “You first.”  He whispered, and just like that, Clint’s back bowed and he was shouting, his orgasm ripping through him.  His thighs shook and he clenched down around him so hard, there was no way Phil could not follow him.  Two more thrusts deep into his body and he was shouting his release as well, his hands tight on Clint’s hips.  

It took everything he had not to fall on top of Phil.  As it was, he fell on top of his arm, though at least that could be pulled out from under him.  “Holy fuck Phil...”  

He smiled and reached up to run his fingers through Clint’s hair.  He watched as Clint snuggled closer to him.  “Yeah, I’d say that is an accurate assessment.”  

Clint chuckled.  “We need to do that again.”  

Phil nodded his agreement, wrapping an arm around Clint, keeping him close.  “Yes.  Preferably after a shower.”  

He nodded.  That sounded like an excellent plan.  “Hey Phil?”  

“Yes Clint?”  

He could hear the eyebrow being raised in his direction.  “I’m really glad you’re back.  Try not to do that again, okay?”  Clint kissed Phil’s neck and took a deep breath.  Phil was here with him.  He was alive, and they were here.  

“I will try my very best.”  He could not promise.  Who knew what SHIELD and their insane lives had in store for them.  But his best was very, very, very good.   So good, that he felt Clint relax against him and yawn.  

“I am going back to sleep.  You should too.  Paperwork waits for the wounded.”  Clint mumbled into Phil’s shoulder, closing his eyes again.  

He should get up.  He should.  They were sticky, they would be more wet they than he could really stand on a morning like this, but he couldn’t make himself leave.  Not with Clint draped over him and a happy little smile on his face.  Phil knew he would endure just about anything for that smile.  It was worth it.  “Night Clint.”  I love you.  The words hadn’t been shared yet, but they were there.  That was all that was important.  For the both of them.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter I have planned for this particular fic....but don't get me wrong, we may see another in this series that addresses the big "L" word that they haven't shared yet. For right now though, this is the end of the P/C part of the series. But I'm a sucker for proper endings, so I am sure they will crop up again.

**Author's Note:**

> And I have decided. There will be an extra chapter. 
> 
> With porn.
> 
> Because I love porn. Kinda addicted to it. 
> 
> Should be up in a few days.
> 
> Comments and Criticisms welcome!
> 
> You can find me here: http://aria-lerendeair.tumblr.com/
> 
> You can also watch me write fics like this (and dozens of others) live! Follow me on Livestream for fics, shenanigans and a general all-around awesome time! http://new.livestream.com/accounts/7212317


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